


Sleep

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 17:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16877544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis does chores.





	Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Special thanks to hollyandvice for the bun. <3
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Gladiolus grunts, “Thanks,” before he slips out of the car, stifling a yawn and nodding goodbye. Ignis lifts his hand in a semi-wave, mirroring the sentiment. Gladiolus doesn’t see it; he’s already turning around and lumbering towards the front door of his building. It’s just as well—he looks as tired as Noctis at a council meeting. Given that it’s one in the morning, that’s no surprise. But it’s not the first time Ignis has played chauffer past midnight, and he’s sure it won’t be the last.

As he pulls out of the driveway, he nearly takes a left when he should be going right; it _feels_ like he should be driving Prompto home too. He really should. They might not have school nights anymore to worry about, but Prompto still has college courses tomorrow afternoon, and Noctis’ schedule is as jam-packed as always. Ignis really _should_ have pried Prompto away and sent him home. But Noctis is a grown man now, and it’s getting increasingly harder to say no to him. He knows he’s as strong as Ignis, knows he’s the crown prince, and he probably knows that he has Ignis wrapped around his little finger. Ignis sighs to himself just thinking about it. He needs to start putting his foot down. 

He presses his foot against the gas and merges onto the highway, busy even at this time of night: Insomnia never sleeps. Noctis should. But Ignis is quite sure that when he gets home, Noctis and Prompto will still be glued to the television screen like listless zombies. They’ve been playing their new racing game for a good six hours straight, and it doesn’t seem like there’s any end in sight. On the other hand, there is a very thin silver lining—at least Ignis will have something interesting to watch while he folds Noctis laundry. Not that he should be doing Noctis’ laundry at all. But if he doesn’t, no one will, and he doesn’t want to explain it to the king when the prince shows up at the Citadel in the same smelly T-shirt for five days in a row. 

For the rest of the drive home, Ignis at least pretends he’s going to make the other two help. If Prompto’s going to practically live there, he may as well pitch in. And Noctis should more than pitch in; he should do all of it. He should be doing _Ignis’_ laundry as a thank you for everything else Ignis does. 

Although, if Noctis did try that, Ignis would probably call the Crownsguard and have him discreetly arrested, because then he obviously wouldn’t be _Noctis_ , but some bizarre imposter who didn’t do enough research. Ignis knows that Noctis does have a good heart deep down, but that doesn’t often extend to chores. 

He’s back in the underground parking lot in what feels like no time. Then it’s straight to the elevator and up to Noctis’ floor. Once he’s outside the door, he doesn’t bother knocking; they’ll likely be too busy virtually trouncing one another to let him in, and besides, he’s had his own key from the day that Noctis moved in. Sure enough, as he slips inside the apartment and out of his shoes, he can hear the repetitive soundtrack of their game droning on.

He wanders out of the entranceway and into the living room, then pauses and sighs.

The game is still on. The controllers are on the coffee-table. The laundry basket is upended, and a week’s worth of clothing is strewn across the floor, with Prompto and Noctis curled up atop the pile like hibernating animals with patchwork nests.

He should’ve known Noctis wouldn’t last. Yet he would’ve thought that Noctis could’ve at least made it to the bedroom, rather than turning Ignis’ hard work into a makeshift mattress. Ignis’ perfectionist streak murmurs that the clothes will all need to be washed again. And Prompto will need to be scolded for going along with such nonsense.

He almost wishes Gladiolus was still around to carry them both off to bed and free up the clothes. Ignis _could_ manage their slack weight individually, but not easily enough to justify it when he could just wake them up and give them an earful.

He heads over to Noctis first, already wondering what he’ll say next time King Regis asks him how Noctis is faring living on his own.


End file.
